


Always Keep Your Friends Closer

by misura



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Diggle is just trying to keep it real, Felicity loves coffee, Gen, Slade is a ninja, it's always up to Oliver to save the day, revenge is serious business except when it's not, wild speculations about what happened on the island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slade sets into motion his devious plan to corrupt Oliver's nearest and dearest. With cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Keep Your Friends Closer

**Author's Note:**

> so, basically, I just really like Slade and this is 100% Not Happening Ever, but I wanted to at least write it and put it out here before tomorrow's episode. which will probably not involve cookies.
> 
> contains faint traces of people thinking other people are in relationships.

There's an intruder in the basement and this time, it's not a kitten.

Logically speaking, Oliver supposes he should have known this; kittens set off the very advanced alarm system Felicity has installed, and their current intruder has not.

Then again, he feels he can be excused for allowing himself to think, just for a moment, that the alarm system _not_ going off would mean there's no one there. Up until now, that's always been the truth, after all.

"Who - " Diggle starts, at the same time Felicity says, "How - ", which are both lead-ins to good questions, even if Oliver already possesses the answers to both of them. ( _Slade Wilson_ and _because he's Slade Wilson_ , respectively.)

"Fair warning," Slade says, and Oliver wants to say _You don't believe in fair_ , but he also wants to say _You're alive!_ and _I'm sorry_ and a couple dozen other things, so in the end, he ends up saying nothing at all. "I'm coming for you."

"You're ... already here?" Felicity says, glancing sideways at Oliver in a way that he'll later decide to mean _shouldn't you be putting an arrow in this guy right about now?_.

Slade scowls at her darkly, then proceeds to not to anything at all threatening. Or say anything at all threatening.

"For all of us?" Diggle asks, which is a question Oliver isn't entirely sure he's already got the answer to. On the one hand, Slade doesn't actually _know_ Diggle and Felicity.

On the other hand, Slade doesn't actually _know_ Diggle and Felicity. In Slade's book, that might simply make them good ways to get at Oliver. Acceptable collateral damage.

Slade moves, and he's fast and strong and Oliver feels his stomach lurch, because he knows he's good in a way he wasn't on the island, but he also knows Slade is probably still better.

Diggle reaches for his gun, which is bad, and Felicity freezes, which is okay, more or less, because at least she won't be getting in his way, except that Slade seems to be heading straight in her direction, also reaching for something that Oliver doesn't think is a cellphone.

It's coffee. The good kind, that they charge you five dollars a cup for. Slade holds it out, and Felicity reaches for it, because apparently coffee is stronger than an entirely natural fear of growly strangers who've just invaded your super secret lair.

"Welcome," Slade says, and then he's out the door, leaving Felicity holding a cup of coffee.

 

The alarm system is fully functional, which is not good news.

"Who was that?" Diggle asks. He's asked maybe ten times before, so Oliver feels that maybe some sort of answer should be provided.

Happily, he's got one all ready to go. "His name's Slade Wilson."

"And?"

"And he's very, very dangerous," Oliver says, hoping that Diggle will take the hint.

"He seemed like maybe he was upset with you," Felicity says. "Just a little bit."

Oliver considers lying. He's done it before, to lots of people. Still does, on an almost daily basis.

He's never done it to _them_ , though. (By omission, yes, maybe once or twice, but he's never deliberately told them something that wasn't true. He thinks.)

"I killed him," he says. "After he'd saved my life several times. So I guess maybe he's entitled to feel a bit upset with me."

"You _killed_ him?" Diggle asks, and Oliver can see the way Slade's just been upgraded (or downgraded) from 'dangerous mystery guy' to 'dangerous criminal Oliver has mixed up feelings about'.

"Cool," Felicity says. "So now we're up against the undead? Should I go and hang up some garlic or something?"

 

The problem is: there's three of them, and only one of Slade.

Oliver knows it should give him a tactical advantage; Diggle is pretty good with a gun, and Felicity's no slouch after all those self-defense lessons, but he knows that neither of them stands a chance against Slade by themselves.

"I hope you realize that if anyone sees you, they're totally going to mistake you for my creepy stalker boyfriend," Felicity says over the radio.

"Then let's hope they don't, shall we?" Oliver glances at the screen of his cellphone.

In theory, the moment anyone breaks into Diggle's apartment, Oliver will get a text message letting him know.

In practice - well. Slade doesn't really seem like the type to make things quick and easy, so in a worst case scenario, Oliver figures he's just going to be trading himself for Diggle. Then Slade will kill him, and leave, and that will be that.

 

"A smoothie," Oliver says.

Diggle looks unreasonably annoyed. "I made him drink half first."

"From the same glass?" Felicity asks. Diggle nods, the set of his shoulders adding the _obviously_. "So, how was it?"

"Good," Diggle says, which Oliver feels is a bit beside the point.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No, Oliver," Diggle says. "He just entered my apartment, made me a smoothie, drank half to convince me it wasn't poisoned, and then he left again. Without ever saying a single word."

Felicity smirks. Diggle's lips do that thing they do when he's trying not to grin.

"Look, Diggle - " Oliver says.

"He said he'd bring cookies next time," Diggle says.

 

The next night, Diggle's elderly neighbor spots them heading up the stairs to Diggle's apartment, which Oliver feels really shouldn't feel at all embarrassing, except that - well.

"Oh, my," she says, which - fine, so maybe Diggle doesn't have guests over all that often. (Oliver'd have been happy with a tree, if only there'd been a suitable one.)

"Mrs King." Diggle doesn't offer to introduce Oliver.

Oliver decides that introducing _himself_ isn't really going to improve the situation.

"Another one?"

Diggle smiles a strained smile. "Just a friend, Mrs King."

"Oh, now don't go mistaking me for old-fashioned simply because I'm old."

"No, I - " Diggle starts.

"Just friends," Oliver says, smiling his most charming smile. It doesn't seem to work on Detective Lance, but he has some hope it might do the trick with Mrs King.

"Of course you are, dear," she says. Oliver feels she might have patted his head if he'd given her half a chance. "Well, you two have a good time, you hear. And don't you go leading on that other nice young man now."

 

Slade doesn't show up with or without cookies that night, which Oliver mistakenly assumes to be a good thing right until Felicity comes walking down the stairs looking ... well, _happy_ sounds like an adjective that might work, Oliver decides.

He doesn't really think it's at all appropriate to be using words like _ecstatic_ , or _blissed out_ , let alone _orgasmic_ for someone who technically is in his employment.

"You look ... " Diggle says, and Oliver can see him scroll down the same list Oliver's scrolled down already. " ... radiant."

That one works, too. Oliver assumes. "Tried a new brand of coffee?" They should be so lucky.

"He made me an omelet." Felicity sits down and sighs. It's a good - or rather: a very _bad_ kind of sigh.

"I don't think you should let strange people into your apartment and then make you omelets," Oliver says.

"Just one." Felicity sighs again. "It had vegetables in it. It was really, really good."

"He's _dangerous_ , Felicity."

"Yeah," she says. "He insisted on making me pancakes first, but I talked him down to just an omelet."

 

Needless to say, Starling City's worst don't lie low simply because Oliver's dealing with a dangerous psychotic ex-friend who's on a roaring rampage of revenge.

It's soothing, in a way, to get back to work, to what's important.

Oliver's dreamt of Slade, sometimes, of shooting someone from behind and turning them over to see Slade's dead eyes staring back at him.

He's only human; he's not incapable of feeling guilt, even when he rationally knows he didn't have a choice, that he did the only thing he could have done under the circumstances.

Unfortunately, arguments like _Slade understood_ and _he wouldn't have wanted me to do anything else than what I did_ sound a lot less convincing when it's abundantly obvious that Slade has neither understood nor forgiven him.

So.

Oliver shoots some bad guys, threatens yet another corrupt businessman to turn himself in with all the evidence against him served up on a platter, and goes home to find his mother and sister having a late night cup of tea. With cookies.

 

"It's about security," Oliver says.

Diggle looks politely doubtful. "If you say so."

"Or you could just kiss and make up." Felicity looks openly cynical. It's not a look Oliver likes on her. It reminds him of the early days, of being judged, and judged _hard_. "Say you're sorry."

Diggle's expression implies he doesn't disagree with Felicity.

"Which part of 'he's dangerous' didn't you understand?" Oliver asks. He tries not to sound like he's about to lose his temper.

" _You're_ dangerous," Felicity says. "Heck, _Diggle_ is dangerous."

"Hey," Diggle says, "I've seen what you can do with a computer."

"Thank you." Felicity smiles. There are dimples.

Oliver wants to either scream or shoot someone. "I know Slade, and I know he's not here to deliver coffee and cookies and make you breakfast. He's up to something."

"Maybe he wants to join the team," Felicity says.

"Well, he's got _my_ vote," Diggle says.

They both look at Oliver like this is what he's called the meeting for: to talk about Slade Wilson joining the team. Which isn't even a team, really; just because Oliver's happy with a bit of assistance every now and then, that doesn't mean this has become a group effort or anything.

Just because they're his friends as well as his employees, that doesn't mean they know what's going on here better than he does.

Oliver's the one in charge. Oliver's the one making the decisions. This is _not_ a democracy.

"So how do you say 'I'm sorry' for killing someone?" he asks.

 

On Tuesday, Slade slips into Queen Consolidated's HQ to leave a boxed lunch on Felicity's desk. None of the security cameras pick up so much as a glimpse.

On Friday, an anonymous benefactor sends several large boxes of donuts to Starling City's finest, which is stretching it, Oliver feels - he's not particularly fond of the police, and the feeling is entirely mutual, last time he checked in with his (arguably) favorite detective.

On Saturday, Thea and Roy take him out to dinner - or the other way around, possibly, given that Oliver is pretty sure he'll be the one paying. (It wouldn't be fair to ask Roy, and Oliver feels it's just not right to make your little sister buy you dinner when you've got a job.)

It's fun - low-pressure and nothing important to talk about right until the moment Carly says, "Our regular cook's down with the flu, so we hired a replacement," which is really not at all suspicious - simple good business sense, actually, except.

Except that Oliver's passed the point of being paranoid a long time ago. It happens when you're out to get a lot of people. "Do you think I could talk to him for a moment? To express my appreciation for the meal?"

Carly shrugs. "I can ask. He's kind of busy, though." Her eyes add the rest of that sentence: that this isn't the kind of place where people ask to see the chef after a good meal.

"Sorry." Oliver forces himself to smile. "Just thought I might know him. Is his last name Wilson by any chance?" He feels Thea and Roy looking at him, wondering.

Carly relaxes a fraction. "It is. Why don't you give me your cell phone number? I'll pass it on to him."

"Thanks," Oliver says. "That'd be great." He's reasonably sure Slade's already got his number. In all senses of the word.

 

The second time Slade shows up at the lair, he actually rings the doorbell. (Well, he sets off the alarm, which boils down to the same thing, more or less.)

"I come bearing pizza."

"And beer," Diggle notes, and Oliver feels annoyed with himself for being too busy staring at Slade dressed up like a pizza delivery man to pay any attention to his hands.

Slade grins. "Goes without saying doesn't it?" The bottles get deposited next to the chest that holds Oliver's bow. (Oliver doesn't believe for a moment that that's a coincidence. When Slade's involved, there exists no such thing as coincidence.)

"None for yourself?" Oliver asks. There are three boxes.

He half-expects Slade to make some lame excuse about how he's eaten already or something, but instead Slade says, "Count again, kid," and hands Felicity one of the boxes. Then Diggle.

"I count one box," Oliver says.

Slade makes himself comfortable against Felicity's desk. "This one's mine."

Felicity giggles, which Oliver considers an entirely inappropriate reaction to the situation. He tries to tell himself it's just nerves.

Slade opens his box and takes out a slice of pizza.

"I'm sorry," Oliver says.

For several moments, he thinks Slade's simply going to ignore him. It's been a bit of a pattern, these past weeks. Then Slade swallows and asks, "For what?" and Oliver starts breathing again.

"Everything."

Felicity waggles her eyebrows at him in a way that's probably supposed to convey some sort of helpful advice, but all Oliver gets from it is that she doesn't think that was the right thing to say.

Slade snorts.

"I ... " Oliver says. "You were my friend."

"Past tense," Slade says.

"Well, you're - I didn't think we were friends anymore," Oliver says. "Considering."

"Kid, we were never friends," Slade tells him.

Felicity lets out a soft sound. Oliver makes the mistake of looking at her, and she mouths _This guy was your boyfriend?_ at him. He shakes his head.

"Allies, maybe," Slade says. "Only because you weren't a complete screw-up _all_ the time."

"That's not true," Oliver says. Slade grins. "You saved my life often enough for me to know that's not true." He's saved Slade's, too, once or twice, he'd like to think.

Slade's stopped grinning. "Some way of treating your friends, Queen."

"I thought - " Oliver starts, then reconsiders. "You know what, you're right. I was wrong. I screwed up."

"Words are cheap," Slade says, grabbing another slice of pizza.

"He means it, you know," Felicity says. "Oliver's very sincere. And oblivious. And sometimes totally a screw-up, and a jerk, and he's got lots of issues and things he doesn't want to talk about, and sometimes he shoots people and yells at you for asking if he really had to - "

" _Felicity_ ," Oliver says, too sharply. Slade looks amused.

"But he's really a good guy," Felicity finishes. "Deep down inside."

"A glowing recommendation," Slade says.

"You're the one who wanted to make her pancakes," Oliver says, feeling like he's being petty.

Slade shrugs. "I did make her pancakes."

Diggle clears his throat. "You want to join the team, you're welcome."

"He doesn't want to join the team," Oliver says. "And he's not welcome."

"We took a vote," Diggle says. "He wants in, he's in."

Slade studies Oliver, a pensive expression on his face. "Bit of mutiny in the ranks?"

"We're not ranks," Felicity says. "We're his friends. We're a team."

"Fine." Slade shrugs. "I'm in."

"You can't - " Oliver begins, then shuts his mouth as two people glare at him in tandem. "Look, I understand that I'm not your favorite person right now."

"Good," Slade says. "Because you're right. You're not. And I fully - _fully_ intend on making you pay for every bit of inconvenience you put me through. With interest."

It's as clear a threat as Oliver's ever heard. "So why would you want to join us?"

"You kidding me?" Slade asks. "What better way to make sure you get everything that's coming to you?"

Oliver waits for somebody to change his or her mind about this being a good idea and say so out loud.

Nobody does.

 

_epilogue_

"You think that maybe next time, you could bring some coffee for me, too?" Oliver asks. It's about the twentieth time Slade's been on a coffee run, and he never fails to bring back three large cups.

"What do you think I am: your secretary?"

Felicity smirks. Diggle smiles - faintly, but without even trying to hide it from Oliver. "Please?"

Felicity gives him a thumbs up. 

Slade grunts. "I'll think about it."


End file.
